Betrothed by Jill Myles

then we’re fine. It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Rilen said, dismissing her fears as he always did. He never shared what he did when he met with the other young men of the village, the ones the elders disapproved of with silent frowns. Rilen smiled encouragingly and touched her cheek again. “Now, speak.”
    Seri dreaded telling him the news, knowing he would get angry. He didn’t like it when other men in the village paid attention to her, and as a result, she tended to discourage suitors other than him. Rilen was the only one she could dance with at gatherings, the only one that came by to visit them. He would be terribly upset if he knew of the prince’s claim to her.
    “They’re terrible people,” Seri began slowly, feeling her way into the story. “I was with Lady Mila for three days, and she treated me like filth beneath her fine feet and forced me to dress up in a ridiculous costume. You could not imagine what they think we are like.” Her mouth quirked in memory.
    But he interrupted her story. “Tell me about the castle itself. How many men do they have guarding the doors? Is there a way around the moat? What times do they shift the guards?” His eyes burned brightly.
    Hurt spiraled through her that he didn’t care about how she’d been treated, just about the castle itself. But she told him what she remembered, which wasn’t much. She told him of the guards and how they dressed and how many she could recall at each door. “I escaped them through a door in the scullery. It’s behind one of the stables, and from what I could tell, if you’re dressed as a servant, nobody pays attention to you.”
    A faint smile touched his mouth, as if he were savoring her words. “That’s very good. Go on.”
    “At the ball,” Seri said, leading back to the important thing that she must tell him. “There was a religious ceremony—the prince had to choose a bride. They took each woman before the priests and who said a blessing, and if the gods gave a sign, that woman would become the prince’s betrothed.”
    Rilen laughed at that. “Athonites and their ridiculous ways,” he said, sneering at the ceremony. “The woman is likely six feet tall, has never seen the sunlight, and has ice in her blood. So did they pick a bride for their ugly, weak prince?”
    He’s not ugly , she thought absently. At least, not on the outside . But she forced herself to smile as if it were the funny tale Rilen assumed it was. “They did pick a bride for him.” A pause. “Me.”
    Rilen grinned as if expecting a joke, and then when she didn’t laugh, his frown changed to puzzlement. “What do you mean, you?”
    It all rushed out of her in one great burst. “I was there to hold Lady Mila’s train, all dressed up in the ridiculous costume they’d given me. And I told them that we didn’t dress like that, but no one listened. It was like I was no one the entire time that I was there. And when Lady Mila stepped in front of the prince and bowed, I did the same. Only there was this bright glow, and for a moment I thought it was her, but then she looked at me with such hate, and the prince came and took my arm and I didn’t realize but they meant that I was the prince’s chosen betrothed, that the gods had selected me.”
    Rilen said nothing, simply watched her as she spoke.
    “And now I can’t get away from the hateful place. They want me to take my meals with him, and have his vizier handle all the unimportant details like my family and my money and the things I need—the prince only wants to see me in front of the others.” A hard sob caught in her throat again, a sob of terror. “They want me to marry that horrible man in three days in a religious ceremony. And once we are married, they want me to become the princesse, all because their silly gods tell them to. All because I glow when I am near him, and he does too.” A hysterical little laugh erupted from her throat, and she leaned over, twining her fingers